


Ouroboros

by dvs



Category: Indiana Jones (1981 1984 1989 2008), Merlin (TV), Sherlock Holmes (2009), Star Trek (2009), White Collar
Genre: Crossover, F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-06
Updated: 2010-05-06
Packaged: 2017-10-09 08:29:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/85112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dvs/pseuds/dvs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A story about a map that goes somewhere and nowhere.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ouroboros

**Author's Note:**

  * For [twisted_vergule](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=twisted_vergule).



_Gaily bedight  
A gallant knight,  
In sunshine and in shadow,  
Had journeyed long,  
Singing a song,  
In search of Eldorado_

_ Eldorado, Edgar Allan Poe_

Watson announced his presence with a thump of his cane against the floor, causing Holmes to jerk awake in his chair, shaking his head and forcing his eyes to open, as he peered at the small cloud of dust Watson's cane had encouraged from the rug.

"Watson, good, you're here," Holmes said, as if Watson had simply been out strolling rather than absent a good few weeks now.

Watson eyed Holmes humorlessly and then did the usual round of opening drapes, shifting debris and checking what appeared to be an untouched pile of correspondence. "You have to stop doing this, Holmes."

"I find ignoring letters that will only annoy me to be a beneficial preservation of my time," Holmes said, once he was awake enough to light his pipe. "How is Mary?"

"Good," Watson said with a smile.

Holmes appeared to find some humour in Watson's answer, if the odd lift at the corner of his mouth was anything to go by. "I'm sure she's very good, old boy."

Watson arched a brow, bringing up his cane and pressing its flat end against Holmes's chest, pinning him to the chair where he sat. Holmes simply eyed it, smoked his pipe and said, "What happened to the old cane? "

"The dog," Watson answered before asking, “How long has it been since you looked at a new case? How long since you even left this room?”

"I am, even as we speak, my dear fellow, working on a case. It's paying nothing and I happen to be the client, but it is a case nonetheless," Holmes said with a nod. "There is no time for _outside_."

Watson frowned, removing the cane and jerking his fisted hand up to let the cane slide up a few inches as he used it to gesture at Holmes. "What kind of case?"

Holmes stood up and neared, voice lowering. "A map that does not appear to correspond with any known landmarks and is on parchment that has not seen daylight for centuries."

"You have this map?" Watson asked, leaning closer.

Holmes tapped his head. "Up here. I had the fortune of a quick glance when recovering the contents of one Lord Lionel Mossop's extensive and most valuable collection of artifacts." Watson opened his mouth to ask a question and anticipating it, Holmes answered, "The young heir to the Pennington fortune. His father and Mossop move in the same circles. The puzzle here was why the sole heir of a considerable inheritance would commit such a crime. It was the map, Watson. He wanted the map."

“Why?” Watson asked, clearly intrigued.

Holmes said, “The boy was sick, that much was certain. I saw it in the pallor of his skin. Still, the map itself is a greater curiosity.” Holmes threw his pipe aside and rummaged through his pockets, producing a folded up piece of paper with dark inky lines and symbols. "Here, I have recreated this to the minutest detail from my memory of the original and having examined it and as many maps as I could gather. I could find none that resembled the features of this one. Most... puzzling, would you not say, Watson?"

Watson straightened up, lowering his cane and letting it smack against the ground. "You'll require some assistance, I suppose."

"Are you quite sure, Watson? I'm aware that you have marital obligations now. She must have you tied up in all manner of activities," Holmes said, so innocently it actually came off as a question without the innuendo Watson knew was there.

"Yes, but unlike you, old man, she's rather adept at sharing," Watson said, letting the head of his cane fall towards the ground, hitting a tipped over bottle which started a chain reaction of movement amongst other items which ultimately ended in sending Holmes's pipe flying up into the air.

Holmes caught it with a little jerk, frowning. "Your energies seem rather focused for a man who is newly wed, Watson." Watson's reply was a cool yet effectively threatening glare. "You make a valid point. Come, we have a puzzle to solve."

## ***

He turned the map over carefully, tracing it's most prominent feature with a finger, a curving circular creature. The map had survived a long time, but was still delicate and old. It always appeared to be on the verge of coming apart, yet it remained the same as when Jones had first taken charge of the map.

"Indiana Jones," Marion said, sneaking into the room and with that tone of voice that told Jones she was privately laughing at him. She sat down on the armrest of the chair and Jones slid an arm around her waist. She sighed when she saw the map. "Not that again.”

"I was just looking at it," he said.

"Obsessing," she said. He opened his mouth to protest, but she cut him off. "I know you, Indy. I know what you're like."

He smirked, shaking his head, "I don't know what you're talking about."

Marion frowned. "Why won't you tell me? What's the big secret?" She smiled at him then, like the young Marion he fell in love with years ago, the one who could coax secrets out of him with the sweetest smile. "Come on, Jones. You can trust me."

Jones grinned at her, pulling her down into his lap so his arms were around her and he could show her the map. "Remember when I turned up in your bar and you knocked my teeth loose?"

Marion smiled. "It's one of my most cherished memories actually."

Jones rolled his eyes. "Well, some months before, I was chasing a lead in Berlin. It turned out to be a goose chase in the end, but I found this map." He eyed the old markings again, feeling the weight of the map in his hand, more cloth than paper. Jones was quiet. After a while he noticed Marion was watching him, her face serious. He smiled and said, "Even if I wanted to go look... whatever the hell this about, I wouldn't know where to start, Marion."

"And if you did know?" she asked quietly. Jones looked away. He couldn't lie as much as he couldn't break her heart. Marion snorted, adept at reading between the lines. "Is that your blood on it?"

Jones shook his head. "A man in Berlin, British agent. Had me fooled real good when I met him, masquerading as a German officer. He was in Berlin looking for this. Said he was sent after a cache of documents that ended up in the wrong hands, but I could tell he was only interested in the map. He wanted it so badly he helped me escape from Berlin."

"What happened to him?" Marion asked.

Jones thought back to the dead of that night, the young man in the Nazi uniform, clutching at the gunshot wound that would kill him. "The map, let me see the map," he had said deliriously. "Just let me touch it." He had held the map, his eyes glistening and then he had gone quiet and still.

"Took a bullet," Jones said. "Died."

“What was his name?” Marion asked.

Jones took a deep breath. “Pendleton. Never found out his first name.”

Marion took the piece of paper from Jones and stared at it. "I wonder why this was worth dying for."

Jones nodded. "Me too."

## ***

"So, what was your favourite... I dunno, what do you call them? Jobs? Heists?"

"Let's say projects," Neal said quietly, with a small smile.

"Okay, tell me about one of your favourite projects. I promise not to tell on you."

Neal thought it over and then grinned and leaned in across the table. "A Dali. One of his later works, one I'm betting will never see the light of day. It was beautifully absurd and perfect."

"You stole a Dali?" The hushed question was filled with awe.

Neal sighed and thought it over. "Well, not really. Technically, I borrowed it. There was a small wager at stake on who would be able to steal the original, replace it with a fake, let it sit there for a few months and then--"

"You put it back?"

Neal nodded. "Yeah. I won the bet too," he said with a grin.

"How much?"

"Two thousand dollars," Neal said.

"You put it back for two thousand dollars? I don't think I could do that."

"It's not about the money. It was about finding the painting. Seeing it. Touching it. Painting it and knowing it. Owning it. And then letting it go because I had the power to do it. It's never about the money. But that's not the reason why this job was special."

"Why? Did the owner have Van Gogh's ear?"

Neal grinned. "No. The owner had something stuck to the back of the canvas. A small sealed bag with a map in it."

"What's going on here?"

Neal and Elizabeth looked up from the table to see Peter who had quietly entered, still wearing his sweats from working out.

"Nothing," Neal said. "Elizabeth and I were just talking about art."

Elizabeth looked up at Peter with a smile and nodded. "You want to join us, honey?"

"Yeah, come on, join us, honey," Neal said, waving Peter over and smiling at him with a replica of Elizabeth's smile.

Peter narrowed his eyes at both of them. "I'm taking a shower."

Neal and Elizabeth both smiled and nodded at him, watching him head for the stairs, still giving them both suspicious looks.

As soon as he was out of earshot, Elizabeth said, "A map?"

"It's a real puzzler," Neal said. "No place names or writing. Some random symbols, but nothing to help narrow down the place the map is pointing to. Or even where it's pointing from."

"The owner of the Dali must have known something about it," Elizabeth said.

Neal shrugged. "Maybe. This guy had a lot of rare pieces and artifacts. It could well be that he was hiding the map _because_ he knew what it was for.”

"Where do you think the map is now?" Elizabeth asked.

Neal shrugged. "Wherever the painting is. This guy, Pierson, moves around a lot. Last I heard he was somewhere in Paris."

"And does he have real copies of both painting and map?" Elizabeth asked with a smile.

Neal's mouthed opened in shock. “Elizabeth. I may be a thief, but I am an honorable thief.”

“Oh?”

“Sure. Besides, this guy owns an impressive sword collection I don't want used on me. And... I made my own copy of the map,” Neal said with a bright grin.

Elizabeth grinned back and said, “You are so staying for dinner.”

## ***

It was a strange atmosphere in the embassy on New Vulcan, a certain sadness heavy in the air as everyone mingled and remembered the devastation caused by Nero five years to this day. Jim found himself feeling the pinpricks of sorrow as he listened to the long speeches, the glass in his hand empty too quickly. The speeches brought back more than memories of Nero.

“You look like you're about to run out of here,” he heard a gruff voice whisper quietly in his ear.

Jim smiled and looked at Bones, “Not just yet, Doctor.” Bones snorted and knocked back the remainder of his drink, before pulling at the collar of his smart blue dress uniform. “How are you holding up?”

“Between the weather and the monkey suit? I've been better,” Bones groused. How do you think our Vulcan friend is holding up?”

Jim looked into the main hall, his eyes finding Spock, his friend standing there unreadable to most. However, having met the older Spock and seeing a face that spoke volumes, Jim could read his Spock, the sadness at the corners of his mouth, the grief and loss in the dark of his eyes.

Jim nodded. “He'll be okay.”

Bones gave Jim a long look, before nodding and letting the corner of his mouth turn up in a smile. Jim went back to viewing the proceedings, the mixture of people in attendance, the strong Terran presence for the ceremony.

“You think they'd miss us if we slipped out for a second?” Jim asked with a sigh.

Bones seemed to mull it over and shrugged. “Well, we've made our delivery. I don't see why not.”

Jim nodded and turned. “Fresh air it is then.”

Following Bones out onto a long balcony, Jim gazed up at twin moons, bright eyed in the dim red sky. This small city was still growing and arid desert beyond was visible with its rocky peaks and rare foliage, It was an amazing place to begin again.

“Damn it, I think it's actually hotter than it was during the day,” Bones said, stopping to look at the moons.

Jim grinned and stopped next to Bones, both of them gazing up at the sky, the spot they knew the Enterprise sat in wait. Bones reach out and cupped the back of Jim's neck before turning to smile at him, leaning and pressing a kiss against his mouth, Jim responding enthusiastically.

“We probably should go back in there,” Bones said quietly against Jim's mouth. “When the captain of the Enterprise leaves a room, people notice.”

Jim nodded. “Well, we are their ride home.”

Jim started to turn away from the balcony, but not before Bones stopped him with a hand on his shoulder, stealing one final kiss. Jim grinned and walked back inside, calling over his shoulder, “Moonlight getting to you, Bones?”

Bones replied by giving Jim a small poke in the shoulder. A moment later, he grabbed Jim's arm, stopping him in his tracks. “Hey, isn't that one of our precious delegates?” Bones asked.

Jim looked down one of the small corridors that led away from the main hall. A man in a black suit had just slipped into into one of the smaller exhibition rooms.

Jim nodded and said, “Arthur Pendecrest. He's a researcher. Cambridge specialist on medieval history. Pike said he was really adamant about coming on this mission. Got some pretty important people to throw their weight around.”

Bones nodded, “Not sure if any of that is going to make the Vulcans happy to find him snooping around.”

“Can't say I'm thrilled either, Bones,” Jim said, before heading for the room Pendecrest and disappeared into.

Jim and Bones found Pendecrest at the end of the exhibition room, staring at a glass case that held a single item under a gentle cone of light. His bright blue eyes were fixed on the contents of the case, an intense expression on his face. Something about it made Jim's belly ache and he didn't like it very much.

“Mister Pendecrest?” Jim asked, Bones a quiet presence behind him.

Pendecrest looked up, surprised. “Captain.”

Jim stepped closer, smiling. “I'm not sure we're allowed in here yet. The Vulcans do like their speeches.” Pendecrest nodded as Jim neared the case and looked at the item occupying it. “I know this. Right?”

Pendecrest nodded and said, “One of ours. A gift to the Vulcans. They like a good puzzle and this... well, this is a puzzle.”

“What is it?” Bones asked from Jim's side.

“A map from the Pierson collection,” Jim said. “Adam Pierson was an academic who disappeared off the face of the planet in 2022. Some of the stuff in his collection ended up in a museum. Mostly swords, paintings, books. One of the books had this map in it. A map that makes no sense.” Pendecrest stared at Jim, looking somewhat awed. Jim smiled and said, “If it's been on the Enterprise, I like to know about it.”

“What do you mean it makes no sense?” Bones asked.

“What the captain means is the markings correspond to no known Earth landmarks,” Pendecrest said. “Not even when you take into the account the way Earth geography has changed over time, whether because of man or nature,” Pendecrest said.

“I take it you have a personal interest in this,” Bones said. “Most people sneak off to find a strong drink during Vulcan parties.”

Pendecrest smiled. “You're right. On both counts.”

“That answer why you're here and not out there, Mister Pendecrest?” Jim asked.

Pendecrest frowned at the map, a strange look passing across his features. “This map has been a lifelong fixation. I found out about it when I was fifteen and I knew I had to find the real thing. To look it with my own eyes, not some image on a screen. Touch it with my own hands.”

Jim smiled, schooling his expression. “I'm not sure we're allowed to that with anything in this place.”

Pendecrest nodded before looking up and smiling at Jim. “Now, that would be why I slipped out. I didn't realise yourself and the good doctor would do the same.”

“I really hope that doesn't mean what I think it does,” Bones said.

“I'm afraid it does,” Pendecrest said as he held up his hand, opening his palm wide to reveal a handheld device that flashed bright, letting out a high pitched screech that lasted for mere seconds but was painful enough that Jim and Bones and had to cover their ears.

Around them the lights in the room flashed, turning from dim to bright, the doors sliding shut to trap intruders. Jim reached for his phaser, squinting against the screeching noise.

“I wouldn't bother,” Pendecrest said, lowering his hand. “Your weapons won't work. It's quite an effective device.”

Jim still held on, waiting a moment before he fired at the door. Pendecrest was right. The phaser was no better than a toy. Jim shook his head at Pendecrest. “I hate to break this to you, but your device just trapped you in here. That can't be what you wanted.”

Pendecrest pointed at the case that housed the map. “What happens if I try to open this case?”

“A bunch Vulcans show up to drag your ass out of here, is what happens,” Bones said.

Pendecrest nodded. “Exactly. But if what happens if someone forces an unauthorised lockdown on this room?”

“They need time to open it,” Jim said slowly. “But how does that help you? You're still trapped.”

Pendecrest place his hand on the case, the device resting flat against it. “Correct. You may want to stand back.”

Jim stepped towards Pendecrest, Bones right behind him. Pendecrest swiftly brought up his other hand, a long blade shooting out of his sleeve. “Don't.”

“You won't get away with this,” Jim said. “You think the Vulcans are just going to let you walk out here with that map?”

“They don't need to,” Pendecrest said, his voice hushed. “I just need to hold it in my hands. I just need to find out what it means.”

“He's out of his mind, Jim,” Bones said.

Pendecrest looked at Bones. “You're right. I am. If you only knew how many times I've come close to possessing this, and how many times I failed. If you had any idea about the nightmares that haunt my dreams, just to lead me to this so I can lose it all over again. It would drive most men mad.”

“The Pierson collection's been in a vault for fifty years,” Jim said. “What you're saying makes no sense.”

Pendecrest's expression hardened. “It belongs to me. It's always belonged to me.”

Before Jim could ask what the hell Pendecrest was talking about he was distracted by the sound of knocking on the glass doors. He and Bones turned to see Spock looking his unreadable self, though his irritation and determination lingered around the corners of his mouth and eyes. He seemed to catch sight of Pendecrest and the weapon, holding up his hand to stop anyone else from nearing the door. He gave Jim a look and Jim nodded back. He was to do what he could, no matter what happened here.

“Sorry, running out of time,” Pendecrest said. “I can't fail this time.”

Jim stepped forward again, but Pendecrest pressed the device attached to his palm against the case. It sent out a visible pulse that shone electric blue, silent, before the case beneath it shattered outwards, Jim and Bones turning away from the spray of glass. When they looked back, Pendecrest was staring at the map almost hungrily. Some glass had caught his face, superficially scratching the skin, but he didn't seem to notice. He threw the device in his hand aside and then picked up the map with both hands.

Jim and Bones shared a look before turning to see the progress outside the door. When Jim looked at Pendecrest he found the other man frozen. His hands had the slightest tremor as he held the map and his eyes a glassy appearance.

“Now what?” Bones asked. “You've got the map.”

“I remember,” Pendecrest said quietly. “I remember everything.”

“Arthur,” Jim said quietly. “What the hell is going on here?”

Pendecrest swallowed. “Please pass on my apology to the Vulcans. I would have avoided this mess if I could.”

The doors suddenly whooshed open behind Jim and people were rushing in, Spock shouting orders at Pendecrest. It was all to no avail. Pendecrest held the map to his chest, closed his eyes and murmured something quietly before disappearing into a bright swirl of fiery light. Everyone stared.

“There must be a ship in orbit,” Spock said.

Jim shook his head. “The only ship in orbit is the Enterprise, Spock, and I have a feeling that's not where he went. Let's get back to the Enterprise and find out what the hell just happened.”

Spock nodded and turned on his heel, Jim following. At the door he realised Bones was still staring a the spot where Pendecrest had been standing. “Bones?” Bones looked at Jim, frown etched on his face. “What is it?”

Bones shook his head, slowly making his way to Jim. “It's the damnedest thing. I could have sworn the transport beam was shaped like, like a dragon... snake... or something.”

Jim re-played it in his head, the circular swirl. It _was_ the damnedest thing. Jim nodded, grabbing Bones's arm and pulling him along. “Milk run, my ass.”

## ***

Arthur fell to his knees. The grass crunched under his hands, crisp and dry. When he looked up through blurred vision, the land before him looked desolate and still, overgrown and forgotten.

He swallowed the painful lump in his throat, taking a deep breath before he shouted out, “Merlin! Merlin!”

The wind blew through his hair and whispered, _Arthur_.

Arthur stood, almost staggering forward, no idea of where he was going. But kept walking, kept listening to the whisper of the dry leaves on dying trees.

_Arthur_

He stopped and something glinted sharp and bright in his eyes. He was to follow the blinding light, he knew this. Felt it. Almost having to shield his eyes, Arthur followed the beacon until he saw what it was. A sword embedded in a stone.

Arthur went to it, drawn to the etching barely visible. When he stood by it, his hand began to rise as if it was drawn to the sword without Arthur's desire. He clasped it, held it tight and then he pulled and slid it out smoothly, as if the rock never existed.

When Arthur stepped back, holding the weapon before him, flashes of colour assaulted the corners of his vision. Arthur looked down to see his clothes as they once used to be, a golden dragon emblazoned on red. At his feet the grass turned green before his eyes and around him the trees shook until they held the deepest green leaves. He watched colour consume death as far as the eye could see.

Arthur held out the sword, something compelling him to be led by the weapon. He felt its heaviness in his hand, almost as if it was tugging him forward. Pulling him through the trees, deep into the forest and into the opening of a dark cave. He ran where it took him, breathless as he climbed down into the cave, his heart pounding in his chest.

When he saw the flickering light on the walls in the winding passages, he didn't need the sword to lead anymore. He knew he was almost there. He followed the sound of flames and the heat of fire until he came to a large inner cave. In the center was a sleeping stone figure on an altar, surrounded by a wall of fire. He walked its length, seeking out the weakest spots. No such thing. It was deadly the whole way around. He couldn't leap across, he couldn't run through where it was weakest. There seemed to be nothing he could do.

Arthur stared at the fire, the heat making him sweat. He lifted up his sword and pointed at the fire. “Now what?” He felt that familiar tug. He was to follow. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Of course. Why should it be simple?”

Arthur stepped closer and the wall of fire seemed to leap higher, surge closer, the heat stinging his skin. Arthur staggered back. Then he took another deep breath and dropped his sword. Closing his eyes, he stepped forward and began to walk in slow measured steps. He waited to feel the burn of fire as he reached the wall. And waited. And waited.

And then felt his legs bump into stone.

Arthur's eyes snapped open to find the altar before him. When he turned around, the only flames that existed were in the torches on the cave walls, flickering gently. Arthur looked back at the statue, his hands running down the cold hard arms, the stony chest.

“Merlin,” he whispered, his fingers uselessly curling against the unyielding rock, until he saw wetness on the figure's face. A curved line that started at the corner of Merlin's eye and followed the round of his cheek. Arthur touched it with his thumb, rubbing it away before he leaned down and pressed his mouth to cold stony lips. “Wake up,” he whispered. “Please wake up.”

A mouth opened under his lips, closing as it received his kiss, fingers curled into the fabric of Arthur's tunic before traveling to his face, warm and trembling and then in his hair, possessive. Arthur pulled back, almost afraid to look at Merlin.

“Took you long enough,” Merlin whispered, still holding onto Arthur.

“Just a few lifetimes,” Arthur said shakily.

Merlin grinned, his eyes bright. He rolled off the altar and nodded at Arthur, giving him a familiar smile. “Thank you.”

Arthur nodded. “It was nothing,” he said, his voice not quite as steady as he wanted it. “I know you would have done the same.”

The sheen of Merlin's eyes intensified. He smiled awkwardly. “I dunno. You do get quite irritable when you have to wait too long for something.”

Arthur laughed, his eyes stinging, forcing tears to the surface. He nodded. “There is that.” He looked away, swiping at the treacherous tears. When he looked back, he firmly asked, “Now what?”

Merlin nodded, mouth pursed in determination. He reached out his hand, spreading his fingers and Arthur watched as torches lit themselves in the passage outside. “We find Mordred.”

Arthur nodded, a painfully searing spark of revenge burning in his chest. “For Camelot,” he said.

Merlin shook his head slowly, his eyes unable to lose their glassy sheen as he looked at Arthur. “Not just Camelot.”

**\- the end -**

**Author's Note:**

> Auction piece for Haiti appeal, for bidder Twisted Vergule - thanks for your donation :)


End file.
